Day 19 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2023

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “We've already written poems related to smell and to sound, so let's keep the senses fresh with another sensory poem. For today's prompt, write a taste poem. ” Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “One common feature of childhood is the monsters. The ones under the bed or in the closet; the odd local monsters that other kids swear roam the creek at night, or that parents say wait to steal away naughty children that don’t go to bed on time. Now, cast your mind back to your own childhood and write a poem about something that scared you – or was used to scare you – and which still haunts you (if only a little bit) today.” Today, I'm writing an aswang poem. The aswang is a mythical Philippine monster that comes in many forms: shapeshifter, ghoul, vampire, and others. In this poem, I bring you a manananggal, a woman who splits herself at the waist, with the top half growing wings and flying into the night to hunt. Both prompts again, though my parents never told me stories about aswang, unlike other Filipino parents. I discovered the aswang through reading. "Taste" is incorporated into the poem both through a mention as well as through form. Horror Story The manananngal lifted into the Air, her leathery wings Shimmering against the stars Twinkling in the heavens. Every light in the dark town Twinkled as well, constellations Above and below. She hovered Softly outside an open window, The pregnant woman breathing Evenly in her bed, unaware. The monster slipped her tongue, All ten feet of it, into the window Snaking slowly. She could almost Taste the woman’s amniotic fluid, Ever so sweet and pungent. Then, a few minutes later, the Aswang flew silently away, Sated, satisfied, full of new life. The next morning, a miscarriage, Everyone would call it, so sad. The aswang then turned back into An ordinary woman, living her Safe, uneventful life in plain sight: a Tame girl hardly anyone noticed. But Every night she was a fierce hunter. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]             "Aswang" by sweett00th on deviantart.com I don't know if you noticed that each stanza above is an acrostic, where the first letters in the five lines spell out "taste." I have just finished a novel-in-poems about an aswang couple, where the woman is a manananngal like the monster in this poem, and the man is a weredog. Many of the poems in the book have appeared in the blog over the last few Aprils. Wish me luck: the book is out, looking for a publisher. Alan's poem today is equally scary! But in a different way. :-D Medicine When we were barefoot summers long, our mother got prescriptions just for prophylactic use—we took “worm medicine” for months. Its taste was artificial cherry—red as plastic, awful stuff—I’d drink glasses of water just to wash it down. Our mother’s love could force us kids to face our fears once she could corner us inside the house. —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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